Sincerely
by hannah askance
Summary: But he supposed he could stand it because he loved her – or did that go the other way round? Maybe it felt worse than it really was, just because he loved her. EWE, D/G. Family is more than about knowing each other beyond doubt.


For **Boogum**'s Valentine's Day challenge over at The DG Forum - and posted just in time. (Phew.)

I dislike the ending, but... meh. I hope you enjoy reading it.

* * *

It always began the same way, and he hated it.

He hated it when he'd go into the bedroom, having had prepared himself mentally for it all night. He hated it when she'd wake up, her eyes fluttering open, and her mouth absently calling a name which pierced his chest every time he heard it. He hated it when she'd abruptly sit up in bed, and realising that he was not the person she'd expected to see every morning.

But he supposed he could stand it because he loved her – or did that go the other way round? Maybe it felt worse than it really was, just because he loved her.

_Who knows_, he thought bitterly, and was proud of himself when he barely faltered as he knocked on the door and poked his head in. "Good... morning."

The woman, previously asleep on the silk sheets, stirred and stretched drowsily. "Dr-Draco?" she murmured, stifling a yawn.

He clenched the fist hidden behind the door. "I'm not Draco," he said quietly, his usually deep voice catching slightly. "Draco's not here."

She blinked rapidly, sitting up in alarm. "What?" she breathed, feeling around for her wand, and upon grasping it turned it on him. "You're not Draco," she accused him, her eyes hostile and narrowed.

He inhaled and exhaled. He was a Malfoy. He could live through anything. "I just told you that," he replied patiently, albeit warily. He knew her hexes were powerful – Ginny Weasley had been well taught by her six brothers.

"Don't come any closer!" she warned him, having thrown off the sheets entirely and stood up in what was unmistakably a duelling stance. "Who are you and what have you done with Draco?"

"Draco's not here," he said, and he wished that he would never have to utter that name ever again. "But I'm not your enemy. I just wanted to –" His voice caught, and he had to try again. "There's something here that I need." He entered the room.

She fired in front of him and he yelped, just avoiding it. "I said, don't come any closer," she repeated, her eyes filled with distrust. "Get out of here before I set my husband on you."

Maybe it was the fact that she _couldn't_ do exactly that which made him all the more determined. "No," he said firmly. "There's something I came here to get, and something I need to show you –"

Her wand spat out angry red sparks. "I told you to _get out_."

She fixed him a look, which he returned evenly, and the tension in the room grew thick and tangible as each tried to stare the other down.

And then he sped across the room, past her, snatching a plain, wooden box, and ran back to the doors. Although somewhat bewildered at the element of surprise, Ginny quickly regained her bearings and shot a Stunning spell. He avoided it with an agile jump, but he lost his balance, causing him to fall over and spill the contents of the box. Ginny looked surprised at the specks of red and pink scattered across the floor. She picked one up, and her eyebrows knotted as she realised what they were.

"Cards," he supplied, grimacing as he tried to get up. "For Valentine's Day." He supposed she was too surprised to try and Stun him again, because she gave him a 'you risked yourself for _this_' look. He silently bade her to open it, and she did. He was terribly familiar with the slowly dawning expression of shock on her face.

He knew what each card read. He especially knew what the one she held read, because he had made it after he had accidentally witnessed his father crying in the study. _Dear Mummy_, it would read, _I love you but please don't forget me again. Happy Valentine's Day. Sincerely_ –

"What is the meaning of this?" she asked softly, her gaze still glued to the crudely-constructed card.

"It's exactly what it looks like," he told her simply. She looked up at him, and when her eyes widened he knew that she had recognised him – or at least, recognised his resemblances.

He forgot that he also hated it when she looked at him like that.

"One night," he began gently, "Draco Malfoy was reckless. He had just met his wife after several weeks of work in France, and he forgot to strengthen the wards around the Manor as he usually did."

The grip on her wand tightened. "They came," she murmured slowly. "Draco caught them before they could do any damage, but –" She trailed off, frowning severely.

"They tried to modify your memories." He could barely breathe. "Draco Malfoy avoided the first one."

"I didn't," she said, her face scrunched up in thought. "But nothing happened and I – we thought it was a dud. And I –" She stopped abruptly and brought the hand to her abdomen, looking down. "Three months pregnant. I'm three months pregnant."

"You were," he corrected. Her eyes snapped to his, and she suddenly felt around her stomach in a panicked daze.

"I didn't –"

"You didn't miscarry," he told her calmly. He thought his heart was about to jump out of his throat. "But your... you were never the same since. Your memory, it's..." He swallowed his tears. Seventeen years, and he still wasn't used to it. "You keep... _resetting_ every year. Every..." He cast a look at the scattered cards. "Fourteenth of February, and every year, I..." _Damnitdamnitdamnit._ He took a deep breath, and decided to just say the whole thing, her believing it or not be damned. "Dad's not here – he's gone to Germany looking for a cure." Reaching behind him and pulling out a card from his trousers, he gave it to her. "I made you this. I hope you... I hope you like it."

Ginny Malfoy dropped her wand, covering her mouth, and her eyes grew wet and glassy. "Dorian? You're Dorian?" She put her hands on his face, touching his white-blonde hair, his features, and her own brown eyes stared back at her. "Oh god, I didn't... Dorian?"

He smiled weakly and gestured at the wand on the carpeted ground. "I forgive you," he told her jokingly, and she all but grabbed him into a swift and warm embrace, one he immediately returned.

"I can't believe – Dorian, I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry." She was crying. He could tell she was because his shirt was damp. He tried not to follow suit.

And he realised – he was right, after all. He stood this every year. She didn't have to apologise, because he'd already forgiven her a long time ago. He could stand it. He hated it, but loved her more. He could.

_To hell with it_, he thought, and choked out, "I love you, Mum."

–_Sincerely, Dorian_.


End file.
